Journal Snipits
Excerpts from the Vol. 14.4, BT Journal
B News – The Marmot Hunters
The Story of the Alaska Marmot
One of the rewards when you finish a project is to be asked back to work on others with the same researchers. Such was the case when we finished with the collared pika project. The lead researcher has his hands in a number of projects as he works with his Ph.D. candidates. All the projects are “special” to him, with his desire to find answers to our changing environment. That comes from working at the top of the planet, where the effect of global warming is very apparent. Our coming back to Alaska for this new critter was first discussed in 2005, and then in earnest in 2007, yet it wasn’t until 2010 that it all came to be. A lot can happen in five years! And what was originally to be a three-week project turned into just a five-day trip, with only three full days behind the lens. This is the story of that project and those days.
The plane touched down in Fairbanks to our usual Alaska greeting: rain. By the time we had our luggage in the rental truck, it had stopped and the sun appeared low on the horizon. Anywhere else, and we’d be dashing for position to shoot the sunset, but in Alaska, the sunset takes an hour to unfold. We headed to the lodge, checked in, grabbed the 109-lb. Pelican case we shipped ahead, dropped our stuff off in the room, and headed out with our cameras to the west end of the field, where moose (the four-legged kind) tend to hang out looking for an easy click. With our love of planes, Jake and I cruised around to see what warbirds might be on the ramp. On the east end of the field, they have a large water landing and parking area for all the floatplanes. We stopped there and watched the comings and goings for a while, getting our minds into being back in Alaska and the adventure at hand.
I’ve found that when working on any project, but especially in Alaska, arriving at least one day early (and in this case, two) and flying out at least one day later (in this case, two) is a must. There are many reasons for this, but the biggest one is recovery. When working on a big project with everything at stake, getting in at least one business day early, you have a day to recover if the giant Pelican isn’t delivered on time, or the airlines lose your luggage, or something else major happens, so you can still function and complete the project at hand. And what do you do in this case everything arrived in one piece as planned (which does happen)? You go out shooting, of course! Jake and I had no problem cruising Fairbanks and Chena River looking for subjects. From sandhill cranes, to moose, to planes, you can always find something to do while you’re waiting for the paint to dry.
Back in the room that night, after not really finding any great pics, we checked the contents of the Pelican and arranged all the gear for the project. Like the majority of our projects in Alaska, this was a camping expedition. I learned long ago not to trust my tent and sleeping bag to baggage handlers. Arriving with bent or broken tent poles or a wet sleeping bag really sucks. Along with the tents, in the Pelican were our 200–400mm lenses, binoculars, cans of air, tripod heads, flash lighting gear (like stands and an EzyBox), AA batteries, and solar panels. When packing for camping by plane, space is always a battle, but this year we got a huge assist with the new Therm-a-Rest NeoAir pads (thanks flyboy!). These things are GREAT! They roll down to nothing and inflate to big, cushy, warm sleeping pads. They are huge space savers and work great. Once we’d gone through everything, including checking the 200–400s by putting bodies on them and shooting through them, we got it all repacked and called it a day.
There’s another reason I like to arrive early, and that’s to simply shake out the cobwebs. Yes, I pick up the camera every day to keep those skills sharp. I’m not talking about that kind of cobwebs. I’m referring to life-getting-in-the-way-of-life roadblocks: deadlines, presentations, articles, phone calls, taking out the trash, and walking the dogs. All those things that are so important to keeping a home and business running, I really want cleared out of my head before heading into the field. I want my entire focus to be on the project—thinking biology, getting in place, looking for those opportunities, so that with a click, the story is told. One thing that helps this is sleep, so the next morning we sure weren’t up for a sunrise shoot.
After a great Alaskan breakfast, which must include reindeer sausage, my mind was running full-tilt on the adventure at hand, so it was up the hill to the University of Alaska Fairbanks (UAF) campus and its marvelous Museum of the North for our project planning meeting. If you’ve never been to this museum, you need to get there! It has great exhibits on everything from local wildlife to culture, and always has a great art exhibit. They had a marvelous exhibit of photographs of Alaska 100 years ago, and then the same location shot from the same spot 100 years later. Wow, that was eye opening! After a few minutes of cruising the hall, a door opened on a side hall and, after quick intros, down into the bowels of the museum Jake and I ascended. A turn left, a couple turns right, and we came upon two massive doors, decorated as only scientists can, with cuttings of magazine covers from other projects and dumb animal cartoons. We knew we had come to our final destination.
Inside was the one familiar face we knew, the boss who was soon shaking our hands and welcoming us to UAF and back to Alaska. With maps on the table, photos on the monitor, and science surrounding us, we got down to brass tacks: our departure time the next day, all the support gear we needed to have with us, and most importantly, the project at hand, which we went over all in great detail. We were heading north, above the Arctic Circle, to a mountain that was on the topos, but didn’t have an official name (though the day we got back, it was officially named by the U.S. Geological Survey). Link, the lead researcher, had Nic go to the collection and grab a specimen of the critter we were heading up to photograph. He came back with a large critter, with a black face, silver coat, and rufous butt. This was the first time I’d seen an Alaska marmot, and if we were successful, we’d have photographs of them by the end of the expedition.
TNews – Starting a Photo Bi$
You Can Do It!
You have a dream, a quest, the desire to do more with your photography than just hanging pretty pictures on your wall. That’s great! When you show your images to folks, they tell you that you should do it for a living. You get encouragement from the images you see being published, knowing some of your images are better. So you think of some clever name for your photography business, create a logo, print some business cards, and even go so far as to get a website up, thinking this makes you a viable photography business. The problem arises when there are no phone calls, no visitors to your website, no sales. What went wrong? Much has changed since we started our business back in 1981, except one thing: the only time we’re making money is when we’re behind the lens!
Can you make money or, better yet, a living, from your photography? Without knowing you or your photography, I think you can. While it takes an image inventory, it still requires more to make a business from those images. We have a business plan, for the most part, something that gives us a direction—or as some will say, goals—that give us forward motion. It was moving along just fine, as fine as it can be with what we can control over life, until one day a few years back. We were at breakfast and my longtime dear friend, Scott Diussa, just said off the cuff that he and NPS would be at Reno PRS. “What’s that?” I inquired. “That’s where the pilots for the Reno Air Race practice and qualify for the September race,” he said. Without hesitation, I asked if he needed a volunteer. In four months, I was on the ramp of Reno-Stead Airport, looking face-to-face with a P-51D Mustang, a WWII aircraft, and in love!
When the props turned over and that mighty Rolls Royce engine roar filled the air, I thought my heart would burst from my chest. Not too long after, I was at a pylon with the same plane just ninety feet overhead, screaming by in a couple of shutter clicks, doing a mere 400 mph. The panning was really no different than what we already do for birds, so keeping the plane in the viewfinder was pretty simple. The D3 did all the hard work of AF operation and exposure, and a brand new friend, Richard, provided me with key concepts for putting the feeling of flight into a still image. By the time PRS was over in three days, I was so hooked I couldn’t think of anything else. I had some really nice images, I’ve always had a passion for aircraft, so now what?
Does my scenario sound vaguely familiar? It might have taken more than three days for you, but has some aspect of photography totally turned your life around? I’ve talked to a lot of folks in my thirty years, and discovered that this happens to a lot of folks. It’s taking it further that seems to be the first major hurdle.
Fast-forwarding the clock three years finds me shooting even more aircraft and giving my aviation photography flight, literally, as I get into air-to-air photography. Shooting at Reno isn’t much of a capital investment (you can never lose sight of this), but once you take to the air, you say goodbye to a couple thousand dollars real fast. So I started to do my thing (make money from clicks) with my first commercial air-to-air in Jan. 2010. It turned a pretty dime. Then I shot my second two months later, which turned another pretty dollar, and that’s when I knew I could make a business out of aviation photography.
You might have had the same experience. I hope you have. Probably not with aviation, but with landscapes, or portraits, or wildlife—with some aspect of photography. You might be at that juncture right now. I hope you are. Personally, we found ourselves, after growing a very successful wildlife photography business over thirty years, basically starting all over again with an aviation photography business. And, even though we had all the resources that our many years in the wildlife photography business has garnered us, the rules have changed, and we were just like anyone else starting out from scratch. We’ve learned a few new things, used some old things, and have managed to start a new branch of our photography business. I want to share with you what we’ve learned in starting a new business, in the hopes it helps you start a successful career.
Okay, So Where Do You Start?
You’ll have to subscribe to get the rest of the story!
